


Round our souls intwine

by btab66



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Books, Fluff, It's soft and fluffy okay, M/M, Pastries, Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), idk what these tags are but you get the gist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 15:35:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29334651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btab66/pseuds/btab66
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale have a relaxed day out in the Cotswolds. Poetry, pastries and pastoral landscapes ahead.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Round our souls intwine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Izabella95](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Izabella95/gifts).



> Written for the lovely Izabella95 through the GO Love Day event 2021, I really hope you like your gift!
> 
> Thanks to snek-snuggles on Tumblr for organising!
> 
> Title from William Blake's 'Love and Harmony'
> 
> _Love and harmony combine,  
>  And round our souls entwine  
>  While thy branches mix with mine,  
>  And our roots together join._
> 
> _Joys upon our branches sit,  
>  Chirping loud and singing sweet;  
>  Like gentle streams beneath our feet  
>  Innocence and virtue meet. ___

“Right, well…today? No, of course I want it! Yes…yes, I’ll be there,” Aziraphale placed the phone back on its holder, releasing a sigh of part exasperation and part relief.

“Oh, it’ll be tight squeeze, but I’m certain I’ll be there in time!” he began pottering around the shop, packing some comfort books, a thermos of tea and some truly delicious delicacies that were much too good to leave lying around in the bookshop while he was gone.

He rushed from the kitchen to the bookshop to the flat and back again, determined to make a hurried trip to be able to return back to his bookshop by the afternoon. Not to open, of course. Though, if a prospective buyer were to arrive at his door, then he could at least have the courtesy to be inside and ward them off himself. You see, Aziraphale prided himself in being capable of at least that much. He may not run a conventional shop – what with the whole not selling anything lark – but he would certainly be an attentive and responsible owner.

In his haste to depart, he managed to bump into a stack of books which promptly began to topple over, intent on making a pile on the floor and delaying his trip even more. Well, that’s what would have happened if it wasn’t for a certain demon ~~saving the day ~~.~~~~

“Woah, angel, what’s going on?” Crowley caught the books with both hands and began replacing them on the table while twisting around, searching for Aziraphale in the disorganised scatter of books and papers littering the bookshop.

“Ah, my dear, it’s you! I thought it was a customer then and I really didn’t fancy explaining all of this and –” Aziraphale broke off as he searched another pile of books, the topmost book precariously close to falling.

Crowley supported the top while Aziraphale searched the base, “Right, well, what exactly are you doing?”

“You see there’s this wonderful poetry book up at the Cotswolds auction, but it’s almost sold. Oh, it’s so beautiful, Crowley. Leather-bound and annotated, it’s exactly the thing I need. But of course, it’s on the verge of being sold so I had to promise one of my _Hamlet_ copies in order to reserve it. Now, it’s not that I mind that – well, not so much. But the timing, oh I must get there today before the bookshop closes.”

“They’re making you promise a _Hamlet_? I’m sure you could have…convinced them not to.”

“Well, I could have, but that would have been incredibly untoward. I will not have my reputation as a bookseller tarnished by such a thing!”  
Crowley couldn’t suppress a slight scoff at the term ‘bookseller’, but he let it be.

“Right, well, how about I drive you? It would certainly be quicker.” Crowley’s lip quirked in a smile as he looked up at Aziraphale, temptation ripe on his lips.

“I suppose it would. But no _convincing_ ,” Aziraphale gave Crowley a faux-admonishing look before grabbing his bag and heading for the door.

“Of course, angel.” Crowley smiled as he followed Aziraphale outside. He may not be able to _convince_ but he certainly could make them _forget_. Two very different things, if you ask Crowley. The devil’s in the details as they say.

Crowley opened the passenger door for Aziraphale, allowing him to sit comfortably before he closed the door.

Aziraphale had his bag clutched close on his lap, arms swaddling it to prevent it crashing into the windshield. Unbeknownst to him, Crowley had miracled it safe and secure – he absolutely refused to be the cause of his angel’s distress.

Crowley climbed into the driver’s seat and set off for the M40, electing not to have any music lest they be bombarded by Bach’s _Seaside Rendezvous_. Instead, he wanted to simply enjoy the presence of his angel. For Crowley, that was more than enough.

They spent the first half of their journey in a pleasant, comfortable silence which was occasionally interspersed with light chatter and _oh, isn’t it good that there isn’t too much traffic_ and _the roads are looking pretty calm today_.

One might call the lack of cars miraculous. Though whether that was Crowley or Aziraphale’s doing is far beyond our mortal understanding. Though the fact that said car drivers had instead chosen to congregate on the M25 may give us an inkling.

Soon, grey urban landscapes faded into luscious green fields and hills, decorated with blooming spring flowers and dotted with aged, wizened trees. Cool air flowed through the open windows, fluffing Aziraphale’s curls. In the sparsity of buildings, the sun glittered down onto golden fields and emphasised the verdant green, reflecting off of morning dew and creating the rural idyll of postcards ~~and Midsummer Murders~~.

They arrived at Bourton-on-the-Water, greeted by the gorgeous facades of countryside cottages paralleling the River Windrush.

Crowley parked the Bentley and walked over to side to open the door for Aziraphale, holding his hand as Aziraphale stepped out of the car to fully appreciate the scenery.

“We ought to find the bookshop first but once that’s settled, we simply must have a look at that bakery. I hear that the pain au chocolat are scrumptious!”

“Lead the way, angel.” Crowley walked beside Aziraphale, still holding his hand as they walked down the cobbled street. They walked for a few minutes before arriving at the antique book seller where Crowley followed Aziraphale down the narrow steps.

“Ah, good afternoon, I’m Mr Fell. You should be expecting me –”

“Yes, yes,” the seller interrupted, eager to be in the presence of another collector such as herself, “I’m Sarah, lovely to meet you Mr Fell.”

Sarah held out her hand which Aziraphale shook with equal fervour.

“I believe I promised you the Blake anthology. It’s really a lovely piece, I’m a bit teary to part with it if truth be known. Well, I’m sure you know how it is!”

Aziraphale removed the copy from his bag and handed it to Sarah, who seemed equally excited to admire her new purchase.

“It really is a beauty, Mr Fell! Thank you ever so much, I’ve been looking for such an early copy for ages and what a spot of luck that we found each other!”

“Please, call me Aziraphale. And it really is a lovely one, as is the Blake – I can see why you were so reluctant to part with it.”

“Believe me, Aziraphale, I feel a lot better knowing it’s going to be equally loved. And I will certainly take care of this,” Sarah began to unwrap the book, her excitement mirroring Aziraphale’s.

Crowley may have reconsidered his earlier plan to make the seller forget about the _Hamlet_. If Aziraphale was content with exchanging it then it must be alright. This, of course, had nothing to do with Crowley being soft. Nope, absolutely not.

Aziraphale and Sarah exchanged their books and fond goodbyes, intending to meet again soon to discuss their prised pieces over a cup of tea and Victoria sponge.  
“I should let you enjoy you day with your husband, I’ll see you soon, Aziraphale!”

“Ah –” Aziraphale began, but Sarah had gone back inside as Crowley and Aziraphale had begun ascending the steps, before Aziraphale could correct her assumption.  
Without further thought, they re-joined their hands and continued to walk along the pavement, Aziraphale with his newly acquired book in one hand and Crowley’s hand firmly clasped in the other. Their fingers moulded around each other’s in a perfect display of affection, a pleasant weight denoting their love and adoration.

Relaxed and content, they ambled towards the bakery in the hope of a purchasing a plethora of baked delights, not least the pain au chocolat!

“Isn’t it just charming, Crowley! What a darling little bakery, it’s absolutely lovely, wouldn’t you say?” Aziraphale somewhat sped up their pace, leaving Crowley attached to his side and trailing behind him all the same.

“Mmm, certainly quaint.” Crowley replied as he caught up with Aziraphale enough to open the door for him before entering himself with the soft tinkle of the overhead bell.  
A pleasant waft of warm, buttery aromas welcomed them in; it was still warm from the sunshine but not uncomfortable. The scent of freshly brewed tea came next, with the view of the delightful display of pies, pastries, scones and cupcakes.

“This looks divine, just as good as I’ve been told. Sarah recommends the cream tea, she said the homemade strawberry jam and clotted cream are made fresh right here in the village!”

“Hmm, I’ll go and order then we can go outside. It’s starting to get a bit warm in here.” Crowley countered as he walked to the till to order. Aziraphale agreed and went to stand away from the queue so as not to disturb the other customers.

He waited by the door, fondly watching Crowley as he brought their food back from the bakery. The sun was still high in the sky and reflected off Crowley’s sunglasses. He supposed that they looked rather fitting, even the Bentley looked more at home in the rustic pastoral landscape. The pure simplicity and joy of it all hit Aziraphale in that moment – that he couldn’t have imagined such a perfect scene in his most optimistic daydreams and yet that’s exactly what they had.

Their hands clasped together once more and made their way to the green where a wonderful guitar player had just set up and had begun to attract a modest crowd.  
With a wave of his hand, Crowley ensured that it wouldn’t get too crowded but also miraculously tipped the musician a fiver. Again, not that he was soft or anything. And of course, his angel didn’t notice this and give him the fondest of smiles, absolutely not!

“My dear, this looks like a lovely place to sit. It’s a good thing there’s a lot of space for us to spread everything out – it really is looking like a feast now.” Aziraphale settled down, pressed to Crowley on one side and facing the guitar player.

Crowley selected a scone and spread the clotted cream and jam, he broke off a piece and held it up to Aziraphale for him to enjoy.  
“Thank you, my love,” Aziraphale opened his mouth to accept the offered nibble, “mm, it’s splendid. One of the best I’ve had. Sarah certainly has good tastes. You must try a bit, Crowley, it’s much too delicious not to.”

“I suppose I could try a bit,” Crowley repeated the process of spreading the clotted cream and jam with care and took a bite himself before offering another piece to Aziraphale, which he accepted graciously.

“Not bad, definitely better than the ready-made stuff.”

“Much better, I’d say, and how well does it pair with this tea!” Aziraphale took a sip of his tea and Crowley followed suit, enjoying the sweet, buttery scone with the rich, aromatic tea.

Aziraphale sighed in pleasure and moved closer to Crowley. Realising what Aziraphale was attempting, Crowley stretched his arm over Aziraphale’s shoulder, holding him in a soft embrace.

Crowley’s devotion must had radiated like tidal waves, for Aziraphale moved closer still until nothing separated them from shoulder to legs.

Their new-found proximity allowed Crowley to continue to offer Aziraphale the food with ease. As Aziraphale nestled closer to him, he wrapped his arm around Crowley’s waist. He then rested his head on Crowley’s shoulder as they looked out across the river, watching ripples of water appear and disappear in harmony with the paddling ducks.

“Darling, it’s wonderful here.”

“Yes, it really is, angel.”

The gently rippling river lapped at the pebbles and the pebbles resisted. It was time for the pebbles to succumb and the water to rest.

Beside the river, wildflowers flourished and swayed in the breeze, children played with abandon, and an angel and demon sat in each other’s blissful embrace, completely and contently in love.

Perhaps Crowley was soft after all. And perhaps he didn’t mind this so much. Aziraphale certainly didn’t.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments/kudos make my day.
> 
> Feel free to find me on Tumblr @btab66


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